On the night appointed, we met. And to the delight of all the rest of us, Harry1 arrived with a look that satisfied us that he was to be no defaulter this time. The look was one of almost nervous uneasiness. Of course this sprung from anxiety to please Adela—at least, so I interpreted it. She occupied her old place on the couch; we all arranged ourselves nearly as before; and the fire was burning very bright. Before he began, however, Harry, turning to our host, said:
"May I arrange the scene as I please, for the right effect of my story?"
"Certainly," answered the colonel.
Harry rose, and extinguished the lamp.
"But, my dear sir," said the colonel, "how can you read now?"
He then went to the windows, and drawing aside the curtains, drew up the blinds.
It was full high moon, and the light so clear that, notwithstanding the brightness of the fire, each window seemed to lie in ghostly shimmer4 on the floor. Not a breath of wind was abroad. The whole country being covered with snow, the air was filled with a snowy light. On one side rose the high roof of another part of the house, on which the snow was lying thick and smooth, undisturbed save by the footprints, visible in the moon, of a large black cat, which had now paused in the middle of it, and was looking round suspiciously towards the source of the light which had surprised him in his midnight walk.
"Now," said Harry, returning to his seat, and putting on an air of confidence to conceal5 the lack of it, "let any one who has nerves retire at once, both for his own sake and that of the company! This is just such a night as I wanted to read my story in—snow—stillness—moonlight outside, and nothing but firelight inside. Mind, Ralph, you keep up the fire, for the room will be more ready to get cold now the coverings are off the windows.—You will say at once if you feel it cold, Miss Cathcart?"
Adela promised; and Harry, who had his manuscript gummed together in a continuous roll, so that he might not have to turn over any leaves, began at once:
"THE CRUEL PAINTER.
"Among the young men assembled at the University of Prague, in the year 159—, was one called Karl von Wolkenlicht. A somewhat careless student, he yet held a fair position in the estimation of both professors and men, because he could hardly look at a proposition without understanding it. Where such proposition, however, had to do with anything relating to the deeper insights of the nature, he was quite content that, for him, it should remain a proposition; which, however, he laid up in one of his mental cabinets, and was ready to reproduce at a moment's notice. This mental agility7 was more than matched by the corresponding corporeal8 excellence9, and both aided in producing results in which his remarkable10 strength was equally apparent. In all games depending upon the combination of muscle and skill, he had scarce rivalry11 enough to keep him in practice. His strength, however, was embodied12 in such a softness of muscular outline, such a rare Greek-like style of beauty, and associated with such a gentleness of manner and behaviour, that, partly from the truth of the resemblance, partly from the absurdity13 of the contrast, he was known throughout the university by the diminutive14 of the feminine form of his name, and was always called Lottchen.
"'I say, Lottchen,' said one of his fellow-students, called Richter, across the table in a wine-cellar they were in the habit of frequenting, 'do you know, Heinrich Hoellenrachen here says that he saw this morning, with mortal eyes, whom do you think?—Lilith.'
"'Adam's first wife?' asked Lottchen, with an attempt at carelessness, while his face flushed like a maiden15's.
"'None of your chaff16!'said Richter. 'Your face is honester than your tongue, and confesses what you cannot deny, that you would give your chance of salvation—a small one to be sure, but all you've got—for one peep at Lilith. Wouldn't you now, Lottchen?'
"'Go to the devil!' was all Lottchen's answer to his tormentor18; but he turned to Heinrich, to whom the students had given the surname above mentioned, because of the enormous width of his jaws19, and said with eagerness and envy, disguising them as well as he could, under the appearance of curiosity:
"'You don't mean it, Heinrich? You've been taking the beggar in!
Confess now.'
"'Not I. I saw her with my two eyes.'
"'Notwithstanding the different planes of their orbits,' suggested
Richter.
"'Yes, notwithstanding the fact that I can get a parallax to any of the fixed21 stars in a moment, with only the breadth of my nose for the base,' answered Heinrich, responding at once to the fun, and careless of the personal defect insinuated22. 'She was near enough for even me to see her perfectly.'
"'When? Where? How?' asked Lottchen.
"'Two hours ago. In the churchyard of St. Stephen's. By a lucky chance.
Any more little questions, my child?' answered Hoellenrachen.
"'What could have taken her there, who is seen nowhere?' said Richter.
"She was seated on a grave. After she left, I went to the place; but it was a new-made grave. There was no stone up. I asked the sexton about her. He said he supposed she was the daughter of the woman buried there last Thursday week. I knew it was Lilith.'
"'Her mother dead!' said Lottchen, musingly23. Then he thought with himself—'She will be going there again, then!' But he took care that this ghost-thought should wander unembodied. 'But how did you know her, Heinrich? You never saw her before.'
"'How do you come to be over head and ears in love with her, Lottchen, and you haven't seen her at all?' interposed Richter.
"'Will you or will you not go to the devil?' rejoined Lottchen, with a comic crescendo24; to which the other replied with a laugh.
"'No one could miss knowing her,' said Heinrich.
"'Is she so very like, then?'
"'It is always herself, her very self.'
"A fresh flask25 of wine, turning out to be not up to the mark, brought the current of conversation against itself; not much to the dissatisfaction of Lottchen, who had already resolved to be in the churchyard of St. Stephen's at sun-down the following day, in the hope that he too might be favoured with a vision of Lilith.
"This resolution he carried out. Seated in a porch of the church, not knowing in what direction to look for the apparition26 he hoped to see, and desirous as well of not seeming to be on the watch for one, he was gazing at the fallen rose-leaves of the sunset, withering27 away upon the sky; when, glancing aside by an involuntary movement, he saw a woman seated upon a new-made grave, not many yards from where he sat, with her face buried in her hands, and apparently28 weeping bitterly. Karl was in the shadow of the porch, and could see her perfectly, without much danger of being discovered by her; so he sat and watched her. She raised her head for a moment, and the rose-flush of the west fell over it, shining on the tears with which it was wet, and giving the whole a bloom which did not belong to it, for it was always pale, and now pale as death. It was indeed the face of Lilith, the most celebrated29 beauty of Prague.
"Again she buried her face in her hands; and Karl sat with a strange feeling of helplessness, which grew as he sat; and the longing30 to help her whom he could not help, drew his heart towards her with a trembling reverence31 which was quite new to him. She wept on. The western roses withered32 slowly away, and the clouds blended with the sky, and the stars gathered like drops of glory sinking through the vault33 of night, and the trees about the churchyard grew black, and Lilith almost vanished in the wide darkness. At length she lifted her head, and seeing the night around her, gave a little broken cry of dismay. The minutes had swept over her head, not through her mind, and she did not know that the dark had come.
"Hearing her cry, Karl rose and approached her. She heard his footsteps, and started to her feet. Karl spoke34—
"'Do not be frightened,' he said. 'Let me see you home. I will walk behind you.'
"'Who are you?' she rejoined.
"'Karl Wolkenlicht.'
"'I have heard of you. Thank you. I can go home alone.'
"Yet, as if in a half-dreamy, half-unconscious mood, she accepted his offered hand to lead her through the graves, and allowed him to walk beside her, till, reaching the corner of a narrow street, she suddenly bade him good-night and vanished. He thought it better not to follow her, so he returned her good-night and went home.
"How to see her again was his first thought the next day; as, in fact, how to see her at all had been his first thought for many days. She went nowhere that ever he heard of; she knew nobody that he knew; she was never seen at church, or at market; never seen in the street. Her home had a dreary35, desolate36 aspect. It looked as if no one ever went out or in. It was like a place on which decay had fallen because there was no indwelling spirit. The mud of years was baked upon its door, and no faces looked out of its dusty windows.
"How then could she be the most celebrated beauty of Prague? How then was it that Heinrich Hoellenrachen knew her the moment he saw her? Above all, how was it that Karl Wolkenlicht had, in fact, fallen in love with her before ever he saw her? It was thus—
"Her father was a painter. Belonging thus to the public, it had taken the liberty of re-naming him. Every one called him Teufelsbuerst, or Devilsbrush. It was a name with which, to judge from the nature of his representations, he could hardly fail to be pleased. For, not as a nightmare dream, which may alternate with the loveliest visions, but as his ordinary everyday work, he delighted to represent human suffering.
"Not an aspect of human woe38 or torture, as expressed in countenance39 or limb, came before his willing imagination, but he bore it straightway to his easel. In the moments that precede sleep, when the black space before the eyes of the poet teems40 with lovely faces, or dawns into a spirit-landscape, face after face of suffering, in all varieties of expression, would crowd, as if compelled by the accompanying fiends, to present themselves, in awful levee, before the inner eye of the expectant master. Then he would rise, light his lamp, and, with rapid hand, make notes of his visions; recording41, with swift successive sweeps of his pencil, every individual face which had rejoiced his evil fancy. Then he would return to his couch, and, well satisfied, fall asleep to dream yet further embodiments of human ill.
"What wrong could man or mankind have done him, to be thus fearfully pursued by the vengeance43 of the artist's hate?
"Another characteristic of the faces and form which he drew was, that they were all beautiful in the original idea. The lines of each face, however distorted by pain, would have been, in rest, absolutely beautiful; and the whole of the execution bore witness to the fact that upon this original beauty the painter had directed the artillery44 of anguish45 to bring down the sky-soaring heights of its divinity to the level of a hated existence. To do this, he worked in perfect accordance with artistic46 law, falsifying no line of the original forms. It was the suffering, rather than his pencil, that wrought47 the change. The latter was the willing instrument to record what the imagination conceived with a cruelty composed enough to be correct.
"To enhance the beauty he had thus distorted, and so to enhance yet further the suffering that produced the distortion, he would often represent attendant demons48, whom he made as ugly as his imagination could compass; avoiding, however, all grotesqueness50 beyond what was sufficient to indicate that they were demons, and not men. Their ugliness rose from hate, envy, and all evil passions; amongst which he especially delighted to represent a gloating exultation51 over human distress52. And often in the midst of his clouds of demon49 faces, would some one who knew him recognise the painter's own likeness53, such as the mirror might have presented it to him when he was busiest over the incarnation of some exquisite54 torture.
"But apparently with the wish to avoid being supposed to choose such representations for their own sakes, he always found a story, often in the histories of the church, whose name he gave to the painting, and which he pretended to have inspired the pictorial55 conception. No one, however, who looked upon his suffering martyrs56, could suppose for a moment that he honoured their martyrdom. They were but the vehicles for his hate of humanity. He was the torturer, and not Diocletian or Nero.
"But, stranger yet to tell, there was no picture, whatever its subject, into which he did not introduce one form of placid57 and harmonious58 loveliness. In this, however, his fierceness was only more fully42 displayed. For in no case did this form manifest any relation either to the actors or the endurers in the picture. Hence its very loveliness became almost hateful to those who beheld59 it. Not a shade crossed the still sky of that brow, not a ripple60 disturbed the still sea of that cheek. She did not hate, she did not love the sufferers: the painter would not have her hate, for that would be to the injury of her loveliness: would not have her love, for he hated. Sometimes she floated above, as a still, unobservant angel, her gaze turned upward, dreaming along, careless as a white summer cloud, across the blue. If she looked down on the scene below, it was only that the beholder61 might see that she saw and did not care—that not a feather of her outspread pinions63 would quiver at the sight. Sometimes she would stand in the crowd, as if she had been copied there from another picture, and had nothing to do with this one, nor any right to be in it at all. Or when the red blood was trickling64 drop by drop from the crushed limb, she might be seen standing3 nearest, smiling over a primrose65 or the bloom on a peach. Some had said that she was the painter's wife; that she had been false to him; that he had killed her; and, finding that that was no sufficing revenge, thus half in love, and half in deepest hate, immortalized his vengeance. But it was now universally understood that it was his daughter, of whose loveliness extravagant66 reports went abroad; though all said, doubtless reading this from her father's pictures, that she was a beauty without a heart. Strange theories of something else supplying its place were rife67 among the anatomical students. With the girl in the pictures, the wild imagination of Lottchen, probably in part from her apparently absolute unattainableness and her undisputed heartlessness, had fallen in love, as far as the mere69 imagination can fall in love.
"But again, how was he to see her? He haunted the house night after night. Those blue eyes never met his. No step responsive to his came from that door. It seemed to have been so long unopened that it had grown as fixed and hard as the stones that held its bolts in their passive clasp. He dared not watch in the daytime, and with all his watching at night, he never saw father or daughter or domestic cross the threshold. Little he thought that, from a shot-window near the door, a pair of blue eyes, like Lilith's, but paler and colder, were watching him just as a spider watches the fly that is likely ere long to fall into his toils71. And into those toils Karl soon fell. For her form darkened the page; her form stood on the threshold of sleep; and when, overcome with watching, he did enter its precincts, her form entered with him, and walked by his side. He must find her; or the world might go to the bottomless pit for him. But how?
"Yes. He would be a painter. Teufelsbuerst would receive him as a humble72 apprentice73. He would grind his colours, and Teufelsbuerst would teach him the mysteries of the science which is the handmaiden of art. Then he might see her, and that was all his ambition.
"In the clear morning light of a day in autumn, when the leaves were beginning to fall seared from the hand of that Death which has his dance in the chapels74 of nature as well as in the cathedral aisles75 of men—he walked up and knocked at the dingy76 door. The spider painter opened it himself. He was a little man, meagre and pallid77, with those faded blue eyes, a low nose in three distinct divisions, and thin, curveless, cruel lips. He wore no hair on his face; but long grey locks, long as a woman's, were scattered79 over his shoulders, and hung down on his breast. When Wolkenlicht had explained his errand, he smiled a smile in which hypocrisy80 could not hide the cunning, and, after many difficulties, consented to receive him as a pupil, on condition that he would become an inmate81 of his house. Wolkenlicht's heart bounded with delight, which he tried to hide: the second smile of Teufelsbuerst might have shown him that he had ill succeeded. The fact that he was not a native of Prague, but coming from a distant part of the country, was entirely82 his own master in the city, rendered this condition perfectly easy to fulfil; and that very afternoon he entered the studio of Teufelsbuerst as his scholar and servant.
"It was a great room, filled with the appliances and results of art. Many pictures, festooned with cobwebs, were hung carelessly on the dirty walls. Others, half finished, leaned against them, on the floor. Several, in different stages of progress, stood upon easels. But all spoke the cruel bent83 of the artist's genius. In one corner a lay figure was extended on a couch, covered with a pall78 of black velvet84. Through its folds, the form beneath was easily discernible; and one hand and forearm protruded85 from beneath it, at right angles to the rest of the frame. Lottchen could not help shuddering87 when he saw it. Although he overcame the feeling in a moment, he felt a great repugnance88 to seating himself with his back towards it, as the arrangement of an easel, at which Teufelsbuerst wished him to draw, rendered necessary. He contrived89 to edge himself round, so that when he lifted his eyes he should see the figure, and be sure that it could not rise without his being aware of it. But his master saw and understood his altered position; and under some pretence90 about the light, compelled him to resume the position in which he had placed him at first; after which he sat watching, over the top of his picture, the expression of his countenance as he tried to draw; reading in it the horrid91 fancy that the figure under the pall had risen, and was stealthily approaching to look over his shoulder. But Lottchen resisted the feeling, and, being already no contemptible92 draughtsman, was soon interested enough to forget it. And then, any moment she might enter.
"Now began a system of slow torture, for the chance of which the painter had been long on the watch—especially since he had first seen Karl lingering about the house. His opportunities of seeing physical suffering were nearly enough even for the diseased necessities of his art; but now he had one in his power, on whom, his own will fettering94 him, he could try any experiments he pleased for the production of a kind of suffering, in the observation of which he did not consider that he had yet sufficient experience. He would hold the very heart of the youth in his hand, and wring95 it and torture it to his own content. And lest Karl should be strong enough to prevent those expressions of pain for which he lay on the watch, he would make use of further means, known to himself, and known to few besides.
"All that day Karl saw nothing of Lilith; but he heard her voice once—and that was enough for one day. The next, she was sitting to her father the greater part of the day, and he could see her as often as he dared glance up from his drawing. She had looked at him when she entered, but had shown no sign of recognition; and all day long she took no further notice of him. He hoped, at first, that this came of the intelligence of love; but he soon began to doubt it. For he saw that, with the holy shadow of sorrow, all that distinguished96 the expression of her countenance from that which the painter so constantly reproduced, had vanished likewise. It was the very face of the unheeding angel whom, as often as he lifted his eyes higher than hers, he saw on the wall above her, playing on a psaltery in the smoke of the torment17 ascending97 for ever from burning Babylon.—The power of the painter had not merely wrought for the representation of the woman of his imagination; it had had scope as well in realizing her.
"Karl soon began to see that communication, other than of the eyes, was all but hopeless; and to any attempt in that way she seemed altogether indisposed to respond. Nor if she had wished it, would it have been safe; for as often as he glanced towards her, instead of hers, he met the blue eyes of the painter gleaming upon him like winter lightning. His tones, his gestures, his words, seemed kind: his glance and his smile refused to be disguised.
"The first day he dined alone in the studio, waited upon by an old woman; the next he was admitted to the family table, with Teufelsbuerst and Lilith. The room offered a strange contrast to the study. As far as handicraft, directed by a sumptuous98 taste, could construct a house-paradise, this was one. But it seemed rather a paradise of demons; for the walls were covered with Teufelsbuerst's paintings. During the dinner, Lilith's gaze scarcely met that of Wolkenlicht; and once or twice, when their eyes did meet, her glance was so perfectly unconcerned, that Karl wished he might look at her for ever without the fear of her looking at him again. She seemed like one whose love had rushed out glowing with seraphic fire, to be frozen to death in a more than wintry cold: she now walked lonely without her love. In the evenings, he was expected to continue his drawing by lamplight; and at night he was conducted by Teufelsbuerst to his chamber99. Not once did he allow him to proceed thither100 alone, and not once did he leave him there without locking and bolting the door on the outside. But he felt nothing except the coldness of Lilith.
"Day after day she sat to her father, in every variety of costume that could best show the variety of her beauty. How much greater that beauty might be, if it ever blossomed into a beauty of soul, Wolkenlicht never imagined; for he soon loved her enough to attribute to her all the possibilities of her face as actual possessions of her being. To account for everything that seemed to contradict this perfection, his brain was prolific101 in inventions; till he was compelled at last to see that she was in the condition of a rose-bud, which, on the point of blossoming, had been chilled into a changeless bud by the cold of an untimely frost. For one day, after the father and daughter had become a little more accustomed to his silent presence, a conversation began between them, which went on until he saw that Teufelsbuerst believed in nothing except his art. How much of his feeling for that could be dignified102 by the name of belief, seeing its objects were such as they were, might have been questioned. It seemed to Wolkenlicht to amount only to this: that, amidst a thousand distastes, it was a pleasant thing to reproduce on the canvas the forms he beheld around him, modifying them to express the prevailing103 feelings of his own mind.
"A more desolate communication between souls than that which then passed between father and daughter could hardly be imagined. The father spoke of humanity and all its experiences in a tone of the bitterest scorn. He despised men, and himself amongst them; and rejoiced to think that the generations rose and vanished, brood after brood, as the crops of corn grew and disappeared. Lilith, who listened to it all unmoved, taking only an intellectual interest in the question, remarked that even the corn had more life than that; for, after its death, it rose again in the new crop. Whether she meant that the corn was therefore superior to man, forgetting that the superior can produce being without losing its own, or only advanced an objection to her father's argument, Wolkenlicht could not tell. But Teufelsbuerst laughed like the sound of a saw, and said: 'Follow out the analogy, my Lilith, and you will see that man is like the corn that springs again after it is buried; but unfortunately the only result we know of is a vampire104.'
"Wolkenlicht looked up, and saw a shudder86 pass through the frame, and over the pale thin face of the painter. This he could not account for. But Teufelsbuerst could have explained it, for there were strange whispers abroad, and they had reached his ear; and his philosophy was not quite enough for them. But the laugh with which Lilith met this frightful105 attempt at wit, grated dreadfully on Wolkenlicht's feeling. With her, too, however, a reaction seemed to follow. For, turning round a moment after, and looking at the picture on which her father was working, the tears rose in her eyes, and she said: 'Oh! father, how like my mother you have made me this time!' 'Child!' retorted the painter with a cold fierceness, 'you have no mother. That which is gone out is gone out. Put no name in my hearing on that which is not. Where no substance is, how can there be a name?'
"Lilith rose and left the room. Wolkenlicht now understood that Lilith was a frozen bud, and could not blossom into a rose. But pure love lives by faith. It loves the vaguely106 beheld and unrealized ideal. It dares believe that the loved is not all that she ever seemed. It is in virtue107 of this that love loves on. And it was in virtue of this, that Wolkenlicht loved Lilith yet more after he discovered what a grave of misery108 her unbelief was digging for her within her own soul. For her sake he would bear anything—bear even with calmness the torments109 of his own love; he would stay on, hoping and hoping.—The text, that we know not what a day may bring forth110, is just as true of good things as of evil things; and out of Time's womb the facts must come.
"But with the birth of this resolution to endure, his suffering abated111; his face grew more calm; his love, no less earnest, was less imperious; and he did not look up so often from his work when Lilith was present. The master could see that his pupil was more at ease, and that he was making rapid progress in his art. This did not suit his designs, and he would betake himself to his further schemes.
"For this purpose he proceeded first to simulate a friendship for Wolkenlicht, the manifestations112 of which he gradually increased, until, after a day or two, he asked him to drink wine with him in the evening. Karl readily agreed. The painter produced some of his best; but took care not to allow Lilith to taste it; for he had cunningly prepared and mingled113 with it a decoction of certain herbs and other ingredients, exercising specific actions upon the brain, and tending to the inordinate114 excitement of those portions of it which are principally under the rule of the imagination. By the reaction of the brain during the operation of these stimulants115, the imagination is filled with suggestions and images. The nature of these is determined116 by the prevailing mood of the time. They are such as the imagination would produce of itself, but increased in number and intensity117. Teufelsbuerst, without philosophizing about it, called his preparation simply a love-philtre, a concoction118 well known by name, but the composition of which was the secret of only a few. Wolkenlicht had, of course, not the least suspicion of the treatment to which he was subjected.
"Teufelsbuerst was, however, doomed119 to fresh disappointment. Not that his potion failed in the anticipated effect, for now Karl's real sufferings began; but that such was the strength of Karl's will, and his fear of doing anything that might give a pretext121 for banishing123 him from the presence of Lilith, that he was able to conceal his feelings far too successfully for the satisfaction of Teufelsbuerst's art. Yet he had to fetter93 himself with all the restraints that self-exhortation could load him with, to refrain from falling at the feet of Lilith and kissing the hem20 of her garment. For that, as the lowliest part of all that surrounded her, itself kissing the earth, seemed to come nearest within the reach of his ambition, and therefore to draw him the most.
"No doubt the painter had experience and penetration124 enough to perceive that he was suffering intensely; but he wanted to see the suffering embodied in outward signs, bringing it within the region over which his pencil held sway. He kept on, therefore, trying one thing after another, and rousing the poor youth to agony; till to his other sufferings were added, at length, those of failing health; a fact which notified itself evidently enough even for Teufelsbuerst, though its signs were not of the sort he chiefly desired. But Karl endured all bravely.
"Meantime, for various reasons, he scarcely ever left the house.
"I must now interrupt the course of my story to introduce another element.
"A few years before the period of my tale, a certain shoemaker of the city had died under circumstances more than suggestive of suicide. He was buried, however, with such precautions, that six weeks elapsed before the rumour125 of the facts broke out; upon which rumour, not before, the most fearful reports began to be circulated, supported by what seemed to the people of Prague incontestable evidence.—A spectrum126 of the deceased appeared to multitudes of persons, playing horrible pranks127, and occasioning indescribable consternation128 throughout the whole town. This went on till at last, about eight months after his burial, the magistrates129 caused his body to be dug up; when it was found in just the condition of the bodies of those who in the eastern countries of Europe are called vampires130. They buried the corpse131 under the gallows132; but neither the digging up nor the re-burying were of avail to banish122 the spectre. Again the spade and pick-axe133 were set to work, and the dead man being found considerably134 improved in condition since his last interment, was, with various horrible indignities135, burnt to ashes, 'after which the spectrum was never seen more.'
"And a second epidemic136 of the same nature had broken out a little before the period to which I have brought my story.
"About midnight, after a calm frosty day, for it was now winter, a terrible storm of wind and snow came on. The tempest howled frightfully about the house of the painter, and Wolkenlicht found some solace137 in listening to the uproar138, for his troubled thoughts would not allow him to sleep. It raged on all the next three days, till about noon on the fourth day, when it suddenly fell, and all was calm. The following night, Wolkenlicht, lying awake, heard unaccountable noises in the next house, as of things thrown about, of kicking and fighting horses, and of opening and shutting gates. Flinging wide his lattice and looking out, the noise of howling dogs came to him from every quarter of the town. The moon was bright and the air was still. In a little while he heard the sounds of a horse going at full gallop139 round the house, so that it shook as if it would fall; and flashes of light shone into his room. How much of this may have been owing to the effect of the drugs on poor Lottchen's brain, I leave my readers to determine. But when the family met at breakfast in the morning, Teufelsbuerst, who had been already out of doors, reported that he had found the marks of strange feet in the snow, all about the house and through the garden at the back; stating, as his belief, that the tracks must be continued over the roofs, for there was no passage otherwise. There was a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke; and Lilith believed that he was only trying an experiment on Karl's nerves. He persisted that he had never seen any footprints of the sort before. Karl informed him of his experiences during the night; upon which Teufelsbuerst looked a little graver still, and proceeded to tell them that the storm, whose snow was still covering the ground, had arisen the very moment that their next door neighbour died, and had ceased as suddenly the moment he was buried, though it had raved140 furiously all the time of the funeral, so that 'it made men's bodies quake and their teeth chatter141 in their heads.' Karl had heard that the man, whose name was John Kuntz, was dead and buried. He knew that he had been a very wealthy, and therefore most respectable, alderman of the town; that he had been very fond of horses; and that he had died in consequence of a kick received from one of his own, as he was looking at his hoof142. But he had not heard that, just before he died, a black cat 'opened the casement143 with her nails, ran to his bed, and violently scratched his face and the bolster144, as if she endeavoured by force to remove him out of the place where he lay. But the cat afterwards was suddenly gone, and she was no sooner gone, but he breathed his last.'
"So said Teufelsbuerst, as the reporter of the town talk. Lilith looked very pale and terrified; and it was perhaps owing to this that the painter brought no more tales home with him. There were plenty to bring, but he heard them all and said nothing. The fact was that the philosopher himself could not resist the infection of the fear that was literally145 raging in the city; and perhaps the reports that he himself had sold himself to the devil had sufficient response from his own evil conscience to add to the influence of the epidemic upon him. The whole place was infested146 with the presence of the dead Kuntz, till scarce a man or woman would dare to be alone. He strangled old men; insulted women; squeezed children to death; knocked out the brains of dogs against the ground; pulled up posts; turned milk into blood; nearly killed a worthy147 clergyman by breathing upon him the intolerable airs of the grave, cold and malignant148 and noisome149; and, in short, filled the city with a perfect madness of fear, so that every report was believed without the smallest doubt or investigation150.
"Though Teufelsbuerst brought home no more of the town talk, the old servant was a faithful purveyor151, and frequented the news-mart assiduously. Indeed she had some nightmare experiences of her own that she was proud to add to the stock of horrors which the city enjoyed with such a hearty152 community of goods. For those regions were not far removed from the birthplace and home of the vampire. The belief in vampires is the quintessential concentration and embodiment of all the passion of fear in Hungary and the adjacent regions. Nor, of all the other inventions of the human imagination, has there ever been one so perfect in crawling terror as this. Lilith and Karl were quite familiar with the popular ideas on the subject. It did not require to be explained to them, that a vampire was a body retaining a kind of animal life after the soul had departed. If any relation existed between it and the vanished ghost, it was only sufficient to make it restless in its grave. Possessed153 of vitality154 enough to keep it uncorrupted and pliant155, its only instinct was a blind hunger for the sole food which could keep its awful life persistent—living human blood. Hence it, or, if not it, a sort of semi-material exhalation or essence of it, retaining its form and material relations, crept from its tomb, and went roaming about till it found some one asleep, towards whom it had an attraction, founded on old affection. It sucked the blood of this unhappy being, transferring so much of its life to itself as a vampire could assimilate. Death was the certain consequence. If suspicion conjectured156 aright, and they opened the proper grave, the body of the vampire would be found perfectly fresh and plump, sometimes indeed of rather florid complexion;—with grown hair, eyes half open, and the stains of recent blood about its greedy, leech-like lips. Nothing remained but to consume the corpse to ashes, upon which the vampire would show itself no more. But what added infinitely157 to the horror was the certainty that whoever died from the mouth of the vampire, wrinkled grandsire or delicate maiden, must in turn rise from the grave, and go forth a vampire, to suck the blood of the dearest left behind. This was the generation of the vampire brood. Lilith trembled at the very name of the creature. Karl was too much in love to be afraid of anything. Yet the evident fear of the unbelieving painter took a hold of his imagination; and, under the influence of the potions of which he still partook unwittingly, when he was not thinking about Lilith, he was thinking about the vampire.
"Meantime, the condition of things in the painter's household continued much the same for Wolkenlicht—work all day; no communication between the young people; the dinner and the wine; silent reading when work was done, with stolen glances many over the top of the book, glances that were never returned; the cold good-night; the locking of the door; the wakeful night and the drowsy158 morning. But at length a change came, and sooner than any of the party had expected. For, whether it was that the impatience159 of Teufelsbuerst had urged him to yet more dangerous experiments, or that the continuance of those he had been so long employing had overcome at length the vitality of Wolkenlicht—one afternoon, as he was sitting at his work, he suddenly dropped from his chair, and his master hurrying to him in some alarm, found him rigid160 and apparently lifeless. Lilith was not in the study when this took place. In justice to Teufelsbuerst, it must be confessed that he employed all the skill he was master of, which for beneficent purposes was not very great, to restore the youth; but without avail. At last, hearing the footsteps of Lilith, he desisted in some consternation; and that she might escape being shocked by the sight of a dead body where she had been accustomed to see a living one, he removed the lay figure from the couch, and laid Karl in its place, covering him with a black velvet pall. He was just in time. She started at seeing no one in Karl's place and said:
"'Where is your pupil, father?'
"'Gone home,' he answered, with a kind of convulsive grin.
"She glanced round the room, caught sight of the lay figure where it had not been before, looked at the couch, and saw the pall yet heaved up from beneath, opened her eyes till the entire white sweep around the iris161 suggested a new expression of consternation to Teufelsbuerst, though from a quarter whence he did not desire or look for it; and then, without a word, sat down to a drawing she had been busy upon the day before. But her father, glancing at her now, as Wolkenlicht had used to do, could not help seeing that she was frightfully pale. She showed no other sign of uneasiness. As soon as he released her, she withdrew, with one more glance, as she passed, at the couch and the figure blocked out in black upon it. She hastened to her chamber, shut and locked the door, sat down on the side of the couch, and fell, not a-weeping, but a-thinking. Was he dead? What did it matter? They would all be dead soon. Her mother was dead already. It was only that the earth could not bear more children, except she devoured162 those to whom she had already given birth. But what if they had to come back in another form, and live another sad, hopeless, loveless life over again?—And so she went on questioning, and receiving no replies; while through all her thoughts passed and repassed the eyes of Wolkenlicht, which she had often felt to be upon her when she did not see them, wild with repressed longing, the light of their love shining through the veil of diffused163 tears, ever gathering164 and never overflowing165. Then came the pale face, so worshipping, so distant in its self-withdrawn devotion, slowly dawning out of the vapours of her reverie. When it vanished, she tried to see it again. It would not come when she called it; but when her thoughts left knocking at the door of the lost, and wandered away, out came the pale, troubled, silent face again, gathering itself up from some unknown nook in her world of phantasy, and once more, when she tried to steady it by the fixedness166 of her own regard, fading back into the mist. So the phantasm of the dead drew near and wooed, as the living had never dared.—What if there were any good in loving? What if men and women did not die all out, but some dim shade of each, like that pale, mind-ghost of Wolkenlicht, floated through the eternal vapours of chaos167? And what if they might sometimes cross each other's path, meet, know that they met, love on? Would not that revive the withered memory, fix the fleeting168 ghost, give a new habitation, a body even, to the poor, unhoused wanderers, frozen by the eternal frosts, no longer thinking beings, but thoughts wandering through the brain of the 'Melancholy169 Mass?' Back with the thought came the face of the dead Karl, and the maiden threw herself on her bed in a flood of bitter tears. She could have loved him if he had only lived: she did love him, for he was dead. But even in the midst of the remorse170 that followed—for had she not killed him?—life seemed a less hard and hopeless thing than before. For it is love itself and not its responses or results that is the soul of life and its pleasures.
"Two hours passed ere she could again show herself to her father, from whom she seemed in some new way divided by the new feeling in which he did not, and could not share. But at last, lest he should seek her, and finding her, should suspect her thoughts, she descended171 and sought him.—For there is a maidenliness in sorrow, that wraps her garments close around her.—But he was not to be seen; the door of the study was locked. A shudder passed through her as she thought of what her father, who lost no opportunity of furthering his all but perfect acquaintance with the human form and structure, might be about with the figure which she knew lay dead beneath that velvet pall, but which had arisen to haunt the hollow caves and cells of her living brain. She rushed away, and up once more to her silent room, through the darkness which had now settled down in the house; threw herself again on her bed, and lay almost paralysed with horror and distress.
"But Teufelsbuerst was not about anything so frightful as she supposed, though something frightful enough. I have already implied that Wolkenlicht was, in form, as fine an embodiment of youthful manhood as any old Greek republic could have provided one of its sculptors172 with as model for an Apollo. It is true, that to the eye of a Greek artist he would not have been more acceptable in consequence of the regimen he had been going through for the last few weeks; but the emaciation173 of Wolkenlicht's frame, and the consequent prominence174 of the muscles, indicating the pain he had gone through, were peculiarly attractive to Teufelsbuerst.—He was busy preparing to take a cast of the body of his dead pupil, that it might aid to the perfection of his future labours.
"He was deep in the artistic enjoyment176 of a form, at the same time so beautiful and strong, yet with the lines of suffering in every limb and feature, when his daughter's hand was laid on the latch177. He started, flung the velvet drapery over the body, and went to the door. But Lilith had vanished. He returned to his labours. The operation took a long time, for he performed it very carefully. Towards midnight, he had finished encasing the body in a close-clinging shell of plaster, which, when broken off, and fitted together, would be the matrix to the form of the dead Wolkenlicht. Before leaving it to harden till the morning, he was just proceeding178 to strengthen it with an additional layer all over, when a flash of lightning, reflected in all its dazzle from the snow without, almost blinded him. A peal179 of long-drawn thunder followed; the wind rose; and just such a storm came on as had risen some time before at the death of Kuntz, whose spectre was still tormenting180 the city. The gnomes181 of terror, deep hidden in the caverns182 of Teufelsbuerst's nature, broke out jubilant. With trembling hands he tried to cast the pall over the awful white chrysalis,—failed, and fled to his chamber. And there lay the studio naked to the eyes of the lightning, with its tortured forms throbbing183 out of the dark, and quivering, as with life, in the almost continuous palpitations of the light; while on the couch lay the motionless mass of whiteness, gleaming blue in the lightning, almost more terrible in its crude indications of the human form, than that which it enclosed. It lay there as if dropped from some tree of chaos, haggard with the snows of eternity—a huge misshapen nut, with a corpse for its kernel184.
"But the lightning would soon have revealed a more terrible sight still, had there been any eyes to behold62 it. At midnight, while a peal of thunder was just dying away in the distance, the crust of death flew asunder185, rending186 in all directions; and, pale as his investiture, staring with ghastly eyes, the form of Karl started up sitting on the couch. Had he not been far beyond ordinary men in strength, he could not thus have rent his sepulchre. Indeed, had Teufelsbuerst been able to finish his task by the additional layer of gypsum which he contemplated187, he must have died the moment life revived; although, so long as the trance lasted, neither the exclusion188 from the air, nor the practical solidification189 of the walls of his chest, could do him any injury. He had lain unconscious throughout the operations of Teufelsbuerst, but now the catalepsy had passed away, possibly under the influence of the electric condition of the atmosphere. Very likely the strength he now put forth was intensified190 by a convulsive reaction of all the powers of life, as is not infrequently the case in sudden awakenings from similar interruptions of vital activity. The coming to himself and the bursting of his case were simultaneous. He sat staring about him, with, of all his mental faculties191, only his imagination awake, from which the thoughts that occupied it when he fell senseless had not yet faded. These thoughts had been compounded of feelings about Lilith, and speculations192 about the vampire that haunted the neighbourhood; and the fumes193 of the last drug of which he had partaken, still hovering194 in his brain, combined with these thoughts and fancies to generate the delusion195 that he had just broken from the embrace of his coffin196, and risen, the last-born of the vampire race. The sense of unavoidable obligation to fulfil his doom120, was yet mingled with a faint flutter of joy, for he knew that he must go to Lilith. With a deep sigh, he rose, gathered up the pall of black velvet, flung it around him, stepped from the couch, and left the study to find her.
"Meantime, Teufelsbuerst had sufficiently197 recovered to remember that he had left the door of the studio unfastened, and that any one entering would discover in what he had been engaged, which, in the case of his getting into any difficulty about the death of Karl, would tell powerfully against him. He was at the farther end of a long passage, leading from the house to the studio, on his way to make all secure, when Karl appeared at the door, and advanced towards him. The painter, seized with invincible198 terror, turned and fled. He reached his room, and fell senseless on the floor. The phantom199 held on its way, heedless.
"Lilith, on gaining her room the second time, had thrown herself on her bed as before, and had wept herself into a troubled slumber200. She lay dreaming—and dreadful dreams. Suddenly she awoke in one of those peals201 of thunder which tormented202 the high regions of the air, as a storm billows the surface of the ocean. She lay awake and listened. As it died away, she thought she heard, mingling203 with its last muffled204 murmurs205, the sound of moaning. She turned her face towards the room in keen terror. But she saw nothing. Another light, long-drawn sigh reached her ear, and at the same moment a flash of lightning illumined the room. In the corner farthest from her bed, she spied a white face, nothing more. She was dumb and motionless with fear. Utter darkness followed, a darkness that seemed to enter into her very brain. Yet she felt that the face was slowly crossing the black gulf206 of the room, and drawing near to where she lay. The next flash revealed, as it bended over her, the ghastly face of Karl, down which flowed fresh tears. The rest of his form was lost in blackness. Lilith did not faint, but it was the very force of her fear that seemed to keep her alive. It became for the moment the atmosphere of her life. She lay trembling and staring at the spot in the darkness where she supposed the face of Karl still to be. But the next flash showed her the face far off, looking at her through the panes207 of her lattice-window.
"For Lottchen, as soon as he saw Lilith, seemed to himself to go through a second stage of awaking. Her face made him doubt whether he could be a vampire after all; for instead of wanting to bite her arm and suck the blood, he all but fell down at her feet in a passion of speechless love. The next moment he became aware that his presence must be at least very undesirable208 to her; and in an instant he had reached her window, which he knew looked upon a lower roof that extended between two different parts of the house, and before the next flash came, he had stepped through the lattice and closed it behind him.
"Believing his own room to be attainable68 from this quarter, he proceeded along the roof in the direction he judged best. The cold winter air by degrees restored him entirely to his right mind, and he soon comprehended the whole of the circumstances in which he found himself. Peeping through a window he was passing, to see whether it belonged to his room, he spied Teufelsbuerst, who, at the very moment, was lifting his head from the faint into which he had fallen at the first sight of Lottchen. The moon was shining clear, and in its light the painter saw, to his horror, the pale face staring in at his window. He thought it had been there ever since he had fainted, and dropped again in a deeper swoon than before. Karl saw him fall, and the truth flashed upon him that the wicked artist took him for what he had believed himself to be when first he recovered from his trance—namely, the vampire of the former Karl Wolkenlicht. The moment he comprehended it, he resolved to keep up the delusion if possible. Meantime he was innocently preparing a new ingredient for the popular dish of horrors to be served at the ordinary of the city the next day. For the old servant's were not the only eyes that had seen him besides those of Teufelsbuerst. What could be more like a vampire, dragging his pall after him, than this apparition of poor, half-frozen Lottchen, crawling across the roof? Karl remembered afterwards that he had heard the dogs howling awfully209 in every direction, as he crept along; but this was hardly necessary to make those who saw him conclude that it was the same phantasm of John Kuntz, which had been infesting210 the whole city, and especially the house next door to the painter's, which had been the dwelling37 of the respectable alderman who had degenerated211 into this most disreputable of moneyless vagabonds. What added to the consternation of all who heard of it, was the sickening conviction that the extreme measures which they had resorted to in order to free the city from the ghoul, beyond which nothing could be done, had been utterly212 unavailing, successful as they had proved in every other known case of the kind. For, urged as well by various horrid signs about his grave, which not even its close proximity213 to the altar could render a place of repose214, they had opened it, had found in the body every peculiarity215 belonging to a vampire, had pulled it out with the greatest difficulty on account of a quite supernatural ponderosity216; which rendered the horse which had killed him—a strong animal—all but unable to drag it along, and had at last, after cutting it in pieces, and expending217 on the fire two hundred and sixteen great billets, succeeded in conquering its incombustibleness, and reducing it to ashes. Such, at least, was the story which had reached the painter's household, and was believed by many; and if all this did not compel the perturbed218 corpse to rest, what more could be done?
"When Karl had reached his room, and was dressing219 himself, the thought struck him that something might be made of the report of the extreme weight of the body of old Kuntz, to favour the continuance of the delusion of Teufelsbuerst, although he hardly knew yet to what use he could turn this delusion. He was convinced that he would have made no progress however long he might have remained in his house; and that he would have more chance of favour with Lilith if he were to meet her in any other circumstances whatever than those in which he invariably saw her—namely, surrounded by her father's influences, and watched by her father's cold blue eyes.
"As soon as he was dressed, he crept down to the studio, which was now quiet enough, the storm being over, and the moon filling it with her steady shine. In the corner lay in all directions the fragments of the mould which his own body had formed and filled. The bag of plaster and the bucket of water which the painter had been using stood beside. Lottchen gathered all the pieces together, and then making his way to an outhouse where he had seen various odds220 and ends of rubbish lying, chose from the heap as many pieces of old iron and other metal as he could find. To these he added a few large stones from the garden. When he had got all into the studio, he locked the door, and proceeded to fit together the parts of the mould, filling up the hollow as he went on with the heaviest things he could get into it, and solidifying221 the whole by pouring in plaster; till, having at length completed it, and obliterated222, as much as possible, the marks of joining, he left it to harden, with the conviction that now it would make a considerable impression on Teufelsbuerst's imagination, as well as on his muscular sense. He then left everything else as nearly undisturbed as he could; and, knowing all the ways of the house, was soon in the street, without leaving any signs of his exit.
"Karl soon found himself before the house in which his friend Hoellenrachen resided. Knowing his studious habits, he had hoped to see his light still burning, nor was he disappointed. He contrived to bring him to his window, and a moment after, the door was cautiously opened.
"'Why, Lottchen, where do you come from?'
"'From the grave, Heinrich, or next door to it.'
"'Come in, and tell me all about it. We thought the old painter had made a model of you, and tortured you to death.'
"'Perhaps you were not far wrong. But get me a horn of ale, for even a vampire is thirsty, you know.'
"'A vampire!' exclaimed Heinrich, retreating a pace, and involuntarily putting himself upon his guard.
"Karl laughed.
"'My hand was warm, was it not, old fellow?' he said. Vampires are cold, all but the blood.'
"'What a fool I am!' rejoined Heinrich. 'But you know we have been hearing such horrors lately that a fellow may be excused for shuddering a little when a pale-faced apparition tells him at two o'clock in the morning that he is a vampire, and thirsty, too.'
"Karl told him the whole story; and the mental process of regarding it for the sake of telling it, revealed to him pretty clearly some of the treatment of which he had been unconscious at the time. Heinrich was quite sure that his suspicions were correct. And now the question was, what was to be done next?
"'At all events,' said Heinrich, 'we must keep you out of the way for some time. I will represent to my landlady223 that you are in hiding from enemies, and her heart will rule her tongue. She can let you have a garret-room, I know; and I will do as well as I can to bear you company. We shall have time then to invent some plan of operation.'
"To this proposal Karl agreed with hearty thanks, and soon all was arranged. The only conclusion they could yet arrive at was, that somehow or other the old demon-painter must be tamed.
"Meantime, how fared it with Lilith? She too had no doubt that she had seen the body-ghost of poor Karl, and that the vampire had, according to rule, paid her the first visit because he loved her best. This was horrible enough if the vampire were not really the person he represented; but if in any sense it were Karl himself, at least it gave some expectation of a more prolonged existence than her father had taught her to look for; and if love anything like her mother's still lasted, even along with the habits of a vampire, there was something to hope for in the future. And then, though he had visited her, he had not, as far as she was aware, deprived her of a drop of blood. She could not be certain that he had not bitten her, for she had been in such a strange condition of mind that she might not have felt it, but she believed that he had restrained the impulses of his vampire nature, and had left her, lest he should yet yield to them. She fell fast asleep; and, when morning came, there was not, as far as she could judge, one of those triangular224 leech-like perforations to be found upon her whole body. Will it be believed that the moment she was satisfied of this, she was seized by a terrible jealousy225, lest Karl should have gone and bitten some one else? Most people will wonder that she should not have gone out of her senses at once; but there was all the difference between a visit from a real vampire and a visit from a man she had begun to love, even although she took him for a vampire. All the difference does not lie in a name. They were very different causes, and the effects must be very different.
"When Teufelsbuerst came down in the morning, he crept into the studio like a murderer. There lay the awful white block, seeming to his eyes just the same as he had left it. What was to be done with it? He dared not open it. Mould and model must go together. But whither? If inquiry226 should be made after Wolkenlicht, and this were discovered anywhere on his premises227, would it not be enough to bring him at once to the gallows? Therefore it would be dangerous to bury it in the garden, or in the cellar.
"'Besides,' thought he, with a shudder, 'that would be to fix the vampire as a guest for ever.'—And the horrors of the past night rushed back upon his imagination with renewed intensity. What would it be to have the dead Karl crawling about his house for ever, now inside, now out, now sitting on the stairs, now staring in at the windows?
"He would have dragged it to the bottom of his garden, past which the Moldau flowed, and plunged228 it into the stream; but then, should the spectre continue to prove troublesome, it would be almost impossible to reach the body so as to destroy it by fire; besides which, he could not do it without assistance, and the probability of discovery. If, however, the apparition should turn out to be no vampire, but only a respectable ghost, they might manage to endure its presence, till it should be weary of haunting them.
"He resolved at last to convey the body for the meantime into a concealed229 cellar in the house, seeing something must be done before his daughter came down. Proceeding to remove it, his consternation as greatly increased when he discovered how the body had grown in weight since he had thus disposed of it, leaving on his mind scarcely a hope that it could turn out not to be a vampire after all. He could scarcely stir it, and there was but one whom he could call to his assistance—the old woman who acted as his housekeeper230 and servant.
"He went to her room, roused her, and told her the whole story. Devoted231 to her master for many years, and not quite so sensitive to fearful influences as when less experienced in horrors, she showed immediate232 readiness to render him assistance. Utterly unable, however, to lift the mass between them, they could only drag and push it along; and such a slow toil70 was it that there was no time to remove the traces of its track, before Lilith came down and saw a broad white line leading from the door of the studio down the cellar-stairs. She knew in a moment what it meant; but not a word was uttered about the matter, and the name of Karl Wolkenlicht seemed to be entirely forgotten.
"But how could the affairs of a house go on all the same when every one of the household knew that a dead body lay in the cellar?—nay more, that, although it lay still and dead enough all day, it would come half alive at nightfall, and, turning the whole house into a sepulchre by its presence, go creeping about like a cat all over it in the dark—perhaps with phosphorescent eyes? So it was not surprising that the painter abandoned his studio early, and that the three found themselves together in the gorgeous room formerly233 described, as soon as twilight234 began to fall.
"Already Teufelsbuerst had begun to experience a kind of shrinking from the horrid faces in his own pictures, and to feel disgusted at the abortions235 of his own mind. But all that he and the old woman now felt was an increasing fear as the night drew on, a kind of sickening and paralysing terror. The thing down there would not lie quiet—at least its phantom in the cellars of their imagination would not. As much as possible, however, they avoided alarming Lilith, who, knowing all they knew, was as silent as they. But her mind was in a strange state of excitement, partly from the presence of a new sense of love, the pleasure of which all the atmosphere of grief into which it grew could not totally quench236. It comforted her somehow, as a child may comfort when his father is away.
"Bedtime came, and no one made a move to go. Without a word spoken on the subject, the three remained together all night; the elders nodding and slumbering237 occasionally, and Lilith getting some share of repose on a couch. All night the shape of death might be somewhere about the house; but it did not disturb them. They heard no sound, saw no sight; and when the morning dawned, they separated, chilled and stupid, and for the time beyond fear, to seek repose in their private chambers238. There they remained equally undisturbed.
"But when the painter approached his easel a few hours after, looking more pale and haggard still than he was wont239, from the fears of the night, a new bewilderment took possession of him. He had been busy with a fresh embodiment of his favourite subject, into which he had sketched240 the form of the student as the sufferer. He had represented poor Wolkenlicht as just beginning to recover from a trance, while a group of surgeons, unaware241 of the signs of returning life, were absorbed in a minute dissection242 of one of the limbs. At an open door he had painted Lilith passing, with her face buried in a bunch of sweet peas. But when he came to the picture, he found, to his astonishment243 and terror, that the face of one of the group was now turned towards that of the victim, regarding his revival244 with demoniac satisfaction, and taking pains to prevent the others from discovering it. The face of this prince of torturers was that of Teufelsbuerst himself. Lilith had altogether vanished, and in her place stood the dim vampire reiteration245 of the body that lay extended on the table, staring greedily at the assembled company. With trembling hands the painter removed the picture from the easel, and turned its face to the wall.
"Of course this was the work of Lottchen. When he left the house, he took with him the key of a small private door, which was so seldom used that, while it remained closed, the key would not be missed, perhaps for many months. Watching the windows, he had chosen a safe time to enter, and had been hard at work all night on these alterations246. Teufelsbuerst attributed them to the vampire, and left the picture as he found it, not daring to put brush to it again.
"The next night was passed much after the same fashion. But the fear had begun to die away a little in the hearts of the women, who did not know what had taken place in the studio on the previous night. It burrowed247, however, with gathered force in the vitals of Teufelsbuerst. But this night likewise passed in peace; and before it was over, the old woman had taken to speculating in her own mind as to the best way of disposing of the body, seeing it was not at all likely to be troublesome. But when the painter entered his studio in trepidation248 the next morning, he found that the form of the lovely Lilith was painted out of every picture in the room. This could not be concealed; and Lilith and the servant became aware that the studio was the portion of the house in haunting which the vampire left the rest in peace.
"Karl recounted all the tricks he had played to his friend Heinrich, who begged to be allowed to bear him company the following night. To this Karl consented, thinking it would be considerably more agreeable to have a companion. So they took a couple of bottles of wine and some provisions with them, and before midnight found themselves snug249 in the studio. They sat very quiet for some time, for they knew that if they were seen, two vampires would not be so terrible as one, and might occasion discovery. But at length Heinrich could bear it no longer. "'I say, Lottchen, let's go and look; for your dead body. What has the old beggar done with it?'
"'I think I know. Stop; let me peep out. All right! Come along.'
"With a lamp in his hand, he led the way to the cellars, and after searching about a little they discovered it.
"'It looks horrid enough,' said Heinrich, 'but think a drop or two of wine would brighten it up a little.'
"So he took a bottle from his pocket, and after they had had a glass apiece, he dropped a third in blots250 all over the plaster. Being red wine, it had the effect Hoellenrachen desired.
"'When they visit it next, they will know that the vampire can find the food he prefers,' said he.
"In a corner close by the plaster, they found the clothes Karl had worn.
"'Hillo!' said Heinrich, 'we'll make something of this find.'
"So he carried them with him to the studio. There he got hold of the lay-figure.
"'What are you about, Heinrich?'
"'Going to make a scarecrow to keep the ravens251 off old Teufel's pictures,' answered Heinrich, as he went on dressing the lay-figure in Karl's clothes. He next seated the creature at an easel with its back to the door, so that it should be the first thing the painter should see when he entered. Karl meant to remove this before he went, for it was too comical to fall in with the rest of his proceedings252. But the two sat down to their supper, and by the time they had finished the wine, they thought they should like to go to bed. So they got up and went home, and Karl forgot the lay-figure, leaving it in busy motionlessness all night before the easel.
"When Teufelsbuerst saw it, he turned and fled with a cry that brought his daughter to his help. He rushed past her, able only to articulate:
"The vampire! The vampire! Painting!'
"Far more courageous253 than he, because her conscience was more peaceful, Lilith passed on to the studio. She too recoiled254 a step or two when she saw the figure; but with the sight of the back of Karl, as she supposed it to be, came the longing to see the face that was on the other side. So she crept round and round by the wall, as far off as she could. The figure remained motionless. It was a strange kind of shock that she experienced when she saw the face, disgusting from its inanity255. The absurdity next struck her; and with the absurdity flashed into her mind the conviction that this was not the doing of a vampire; for of all creatures under the moon, he could not be expected to be a humorist. A wild hope sprang up in her mind that Karl was not dead. Of this she soon resolved to make herself sure.
"She closed the door of the studio; in the strength of her new hope undressed the figure, put it in its place, concealed the garments—all the work of a few minutes; and then, finding her father just recovering from the worst of his fear, told him there was nothing in the studio but what ought to be there, and persuaded him to go and see. He not only saw no one, but found that no further liberties had been taken with his pictures. Reassured256, he soon persuaded himself that the spectre in this case had been the offspring of his own terror-haunted brain. But he had no spirit for painting now. He wandered about the house, himself haunting it like a restless ghost.
"When night came, Lilith retired257 to her own room. The waters of fear had begun to subside258 in the house; but the painter and his old attendant did not yet follow her example.
"As soon, however, as the house was quite still, Lilith glided259 noiselessly down the stairs, went into the studio, where as yet there assuredly was no vampire, and concealed herself in a corner.
"As it would not do for an earnest student like Heinrich to be away from his work very often, he had not asked to accompany Lottchen this time. And indeed Karl himself, a little anxious about the result of the scarecrow, greatly preferred going alone.
"While she was waiting for what might happen, the conviction grew upon Lilith, as she reviewed all the past of the story, that these phenomena260 were the work of the real Karl, and of no vampire. In a few moments she was still more sure of this. Behind the screen where she had taken refuge, hung one of the pictures out of which her portrait had been painted the night before last. She had taken a lamp with her into the studio, with the intention of extinguishing it the moment she heard any sign of approach; but as the vampire lingered, she began to occupy herself with examining the picture beside her. She had not looked at it long, before she wetted the tip of her forefinger261, and began to rub away at the obliteration262. Her suspicions were instantly confirmed: the substance employed was only a gummy wash over the paint. The delight she experienced at the discovery threw her into a mischievous263 humour.
"'I will see,' she said to herself, 'whether I cannot match Karl
Wolkenlicht at this game.'
"In a closet in the room hung a number of costumes, which Lilith had at different times worn for her father. Among them was a large white drapery, which she easily disposed as a shroud264. With the help of some chalk, she soon made herself ghastly enough, and then placing her lamp on the floor behind the screen, and setting a chair over it, so that it should throw no light in any direction, she waited once more for the vampire. Nor had she much longer to wait. She soon heard a door move, the sound of which she hardly knew, and then the studio door opened. Her heart beat dreadfully, not with fear lest it should be a vampire after all, but with hope that it was Karl. To see him once more was too great joy. Would she not make up to him for all her coldness! But would he care for her now? Perhaps he had been quite cured of his longing for a hard heart like hers. She peeped. It was he sure enough, looking as handsome as ever. He was holding his light to look at her last work, and the expression of his face, even in regarding her handiwork, was enough to let her know that he loved her still. If she had not seen this, she dared not have shown herself from her hiding-place. Taking the lamp in her hand, she got upon the chair, and looked over the screen, letting the light shine from below upon her face. She then made a slight noise to attract Karl's attention. He looked up, evidently rather startled, and saw the face of Lilith in the air. He gave a stifled265 cry threw himself on his knees with his arms stretched towards her, and moaned—
"'I have killed her! I have killed her!'
"Lilith descended, and approached him noiselessly. He did not move. She came close to him and said—
"'Are you Karl Wolkenlicht?'
"His lips moved, but no sound came.
"'If you are a vampire, and I am a ghost,' she said—but a low happy laugh alone concluded the sentence.
"Karl sprang to his feet. Lilith's laugh changed into a burst of sobbing266 and weeping, and in another moment the ghost was in the arms of the vampire.
"Lilith had no idea how far her father had wronged Karl, and though, from thinking over the past, he had no doubt that the painter had drugged him, he did not wish to pain her by imparting this conviction. But Lilith was afraid of a reaction of rage and hatred267 in her father after the terror was removed; and Karl saw that he might thus be deprived of all further intercourse268 with Lilith, and all chance of softening269 the old man's heart towards him; while Lilith would not hear of forsaking270 him who had banished271 all the human race but herself. They managed at length to agree upon a plan of operation.
"The first thing they did was to go to the cellar where the plaster mass lay, Karl carrying with him a great axe used for cleaving272 wood. Lilith shuddered273 when she saw it, stained as it was with the wine Heinrich had spilt over it, and almost believed herself the midnight companion of a vampire after all, visiting with him the terrible corpse in which he lived all day. But Karl soon reassured her; and a few good blows of the axe revealed a very different core to that which Teufelsbuerst supposed to be in it. Karl broke it into pieces, and with Lilith's help, who insisted on carrying her share, the whole was soon at the bottom of the Moldau and every trace of its ever having existed removed. Before morning, too, the form of Lilith had dawned anew in every picture. There was no time to restore to its former condition the one Karl had first altered; for in it the changes were all that they seemed; nor indeed was he capable of restoring it in the master's style; but they put it quite out of the way, and hoped that sufficient time might elapse before the painter thought of it again.
"When they had done, and Lilith, for all his entreaties274, would remain with him no longer, Karl took his former clothes with him, and having spent the rest of the night in his old room, dressed in them in the morning. When Teufelsbuerst entered his studio next day, there sat Karl, as if nothing had happened, finishing the drawing on which he had been at work when the fit of insensibility came upon him. The painter started, stared, rubbed his eyes, thought it was another spectral275 illusion, and was on the point of yielding to his terror, when Karl rose, and approached him with a smile. The healthy, sunshiny countenance of Karl, let him be ghost or goblin, could not fail to produce somewhat of a tranquilizing effect on Teufelsbuerst. He took his offered hand mechanically, his countenance utterly vacant with idiotic276 bewilderment. Karl said:
"'I was not well, and thought it better to pay a visit to a friend for a few days; but I shall soon make up for lost time, for I am all right now.'
"He sat down at once, taking no notice of his master's behaviour, and went on with his drawing. Teufelsbuerst stood staring at him for some minutes without moving, then suddenly turned and left the room. Karl heard him hurrying down the cellar stairs. In a few moments he came up again. Karl stole a glance at him. There he stood in the same spot, no doubt more full of bewilderment than ever, but it was not possible that his face should express more. At last he went to his easel, and sat down with a long-drawn sigh as if of relief. But though he sat at his easel, he painted none that day; and as often as Karl ventured a glance, he saw him still staring at him. The discovery that his pictures were restored to their former condition aided, no doubt, in leading him to the same conclusion as the other facts, whatever that conclusion might be—probably that he had been the sport of some evil power, and had been for the greater part of a week utterly bewitched. Lilith had taken care to instruct the old woman, with whom she was all-powerful; and as neither of them showed the smallest traces of the astonishment which seemed to be slowly vitrifying his own brain, he was at last perfectly satisfied that things had been going on all right everywhere but in his inner man; and in this conclusion he certainly was not far wrong, in more senses than one. But when all was restored again to the old routine, it became evident that the peculiar175 direction of his art in which he had hitherto indulged had ceased to interest him. The shock had acted chiefly upon that part of his mental being which had been so absorbed. He would sit for hours without doing anything, apparently plunged in meditation277.—Several weeks elapsed without any change, and both Lilith and Karl were getting dreadfully anxious about him. Karl paid him every attention; and the old man, for he now looked much older than before, submitted to receive his services as well as those of Lilith. At length, one morning, he said in a slow thoughtful tone:
"'Karl Wolkenlicht, I should like to paint you.'
"'Certainly, sir,' answered Karl, jumping up, 'where would you like me to sit?'
"So the ice of silence and inactivity was broken, and the painter drew and painted; and the spring of his art flowed once more; and he made a beautiful portrait of Karl—a portrait without evil or suffering. And as soon as he had finished Karl, he began once more to paint Lilith; and when he had painted her, he composed a picture for the very purpose of introducing them together; and in this picture there was neither ugliness nor torture, but human feeling and human hope instead. Then Karl knew that he might speak to him of Lilith; and he spoke, and was heard with a smile. But he did not dare to tell him the truth of the vampire story till one day that Teufelsbuerst was lying on the floor of a room in Karl's ancestral castle, half smothered278 in grandchildren; when the only answer it drew from the old man was a kind of shuddering laugh and the words—'Don't speak of it, Karl, my boy!'"
* * * * *
No one had interrupted Harry. His brother had put a shovelful279 of coals on the fire, to keep up the flame; but not a word had been spoken. The cold moon had shone in at the windows all the time, her light made yet colder by the snowy sheen from the face of the earth; and any horror that the story could generate had had full freedom to operate on the minds of the listeners.
"Well, I'm glad its over, for my part," said Mrs. Bloomfield. "It made my flesh creep."
"I do not see any good in founding a story upon a superstition280. One knows it is false, all the time," said Mrs. Cathcart.
"But," said Harry, "all that I have related might have taken place; for the story is not founded on the superstition itself, but on the belief of the people of the time in the superstition. I have merely used this belief to give the general tone to the story, and sometimes the particular occasion for events in it, the vampire being a terrible fact to those times."
"You write," said the curate, "as if you quoted occasionally from some authority."
"The story of John Kuntz, as well as that of the shoemaker, is told by Henry More in his Antidote281 against Atheism282. He believed the whole affair. His authority is Martin Weinrich, a Silesian doctor. I have only taken the liberty of shifting the scene of the post-mortem exploits of Kuntz from a town of Silesia to Prague."
"Well, Harry," said his sister-in-law, "if your object was to frighten us, I confess that I for one was tolerably uncomfortable. But I don't know that that is a very high aim in story-telling."
"If that were all—certainly not," replied Harry, glancing towards Adela, who had not spoken. Nor did she speak yet. But her expression showed plainly enough that it was not the horror of the story that had taken chief hold of her mind. Her face was full of suppressed light, and she was evidently satisfied—or shall I call it gratified?—as well as delighted with the tale. Something or other in it had touched her not only deeply, but nearly.
Nothing was said about another meeting—perhaps because, from Adela's illness, the order had been interrupted, and the present had required a special summons.
The ladies had gone up stairs to put on their bonnets283. I had crossed into the library, which was on the same floor with the drawing-room, to find out if I was right in supposing I had seen some volumes of Henry More's works on the shelves—certainly the colonel could never have bought them. Our host, the curate and the schoolmaster had followed me. Harry had remained behind in the drawing-room. Thinking of something I wanted to say to him before he went, I left the gentlemen looking over the book-shelves, and went to cross again to the drawing-room. But when I reached the door, there stood at the top of the stair, Adela and Harry. She had evidently just said something warm about the story. I could almost read what she had said still lingering on her face, which was turned up a good deal to look into his, so near each other were they standing. Hers had a rosy284 flush as of sunset over it, while his glowed like the sun rising in a mist. Evidently the pleasures of giving and receiving were in this case nearly equal. But they were not of long duration; for the moment I appeared, they bade each other a hurried good night, and parted. I, thinking it better to pretermit my speech to Harry, retreated into the library, and was glad to think that no one had seen that conference but myself. Such a conjunction of planets prefigured, however, not merely warm spring weather, but sultry gloom, and thunderous clouds to follow; and although I was delighted with my astronomical285 observation, I could not help growing anxious about the omen6.
点击收听单词发音
1 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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2 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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3 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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4 shimmer | |
v./n.发微光,发闪光;微光 | |
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5 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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6 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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7 agility | |
n.敏捷,活泼 | |
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8 corporeal | |
adj.肉体的,身体的;物质的 | |
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9 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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10 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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11 rivalry | |
n.竞争,竞赛,对抗 | |
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12 embodied | |
v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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13 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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14 diminutive | |
adj.小巧可爱的,小的 | |
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15 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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16 chaff | |
v.取笑,嘲笑;n.谷壳 | |
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17 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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18 tormentor | |
n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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19 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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20 hem | |
n.贴边,镶边;vt.缝贴边;(in)包围,限制 | |
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21 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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22 insinuated | |
v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 );巧妙或迂回地潜入;(使)缓慢进入;慢慢伸入 | |
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23 musingly | |
adv.沉思地,冥想地 | |
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24 crescendo | |
n.(音乐)渐强,高潮 | |
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25 flask | |
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
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26 apparition | |
n.幽灵,神奇的现象 | |
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27 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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28 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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29 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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30 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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31 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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32 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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33 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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34 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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35 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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36 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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37 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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38 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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39 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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40 teems | |
v.充满( teem的第三人称单数 );到处都是;(指水、雨等)暴降;倾注 | |
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41 recording | |
n.录音,记录 | |
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42 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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43 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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44 artillery | |
n.(军)火炮,大炮;炮兵(部队) | |
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45 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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46 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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47 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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48 demons | |
n.恶人( demon的名词复数 );恶魔;精力过人的人;邪念 | |
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49 demon | |
n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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50 grotesqueness | |
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51 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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52 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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53 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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54 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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55 pictorial | |
adj.绘画的;图片的;n.画报 | |
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56 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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57 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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58 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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59 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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60 ripple | |
n.涟波,涟漪,波纹,粗钢梳;vt.使...起涟漪,使起波纹; vi.呈波浪状,起伏前进 | |
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61 beholder | |
n.观看者,旁观者 | |
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62 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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63 pinions | |
v.抓住[捆住](双臂)( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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64 trickling | |
n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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65 primrose | |
n.樱草,最佳部分, | |
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66 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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67 rife | |
adj.(指坏事情)充斥的,流行的,普遍的 | |
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68 attainable | |
a.可达到的,可获得的 | |
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69 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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70 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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71 toils | |
网 | |
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72 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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73 apprentice | |
n.学徒,徒弟 | |
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74 chapels | |
n.小教堂, (医院、监狱等的)附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 );(在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的)礼拜仪式 | |
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75 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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76 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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77 pallid | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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78 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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79 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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80 hypocrisy | |
n.伪善,虚伪 | |
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81 inmate | |
n.被收容者;(房屋等的)居住人;住院人 | |
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82 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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83 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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84 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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85 protruded | |
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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87 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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88 repugnance | |
n.嫌恶 | |
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89 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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90 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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91 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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92 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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93 fetter | |
n./vt.脚镣,束缚 | |
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94 fettering | |
v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的现在分词 ) | |
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95 wring | |
n.扭绞;v.拧,绞出,扭 | |
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96 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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97 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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98 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
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99 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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100 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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101 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
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102 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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103 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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104 vampire | |
n.吸血鬼 | |
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105 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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106 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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107 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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108 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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109 torments | |
(肉体或精神上的)折磨,痛苦( torment的名词复数 ); 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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110 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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111 abated | |
减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
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112 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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113 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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114 inordinate | |
adj.无节制的;过度的 | |
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115 stimulants | |
n.兴奋剂( stimulant的名词复数 );含兴奋剂的饮料;刺激物;激励物 | |
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116 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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117 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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118 concoction | |
n.调配(物);谎言 | |
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119 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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120 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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121 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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122 banish | |
vt.放逐,驱逐;消除,排除 | |
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123 banishing | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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124 penetration | |
n.穿透,穿人,渗透 | |
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125 rumour | |
n.谣言,谣传,传闻 | |
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126 spectrum | |
n.谱,光谱,频谱;范围,幅度,系列 | |
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127 pranks | |
n.玩笑,恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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128 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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129 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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130 vampires | |
n.吸血鬼( vampire的名词复数 );吸血蝠;高利贷者;(舞台上的)活板门 | |
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131 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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132 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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133 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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134 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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135 indignities | |
n.侮辱,轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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136 epidemic | |
n.流行病;盛行;adj.流行性的,流传极广的 | |
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137 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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138 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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139 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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140 raved | |
v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 );愤怒地说;咆哮;痴心地说 | |
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141 chatter | |
vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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142 hoof | |
n.(马,牛等的)蹄 | |
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143 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
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144 bolster | |
n.枕垫;v.支持,鼓励 | |
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145 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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146 infested | |
adj.为患的,大批滋生的(常与with搭配)v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 );遍布于 | |
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147 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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148 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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149 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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150 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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151 purveyor | |
n.承办商,伙食承办商 | |
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152 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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153 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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154 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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155 pliant | |
adj.顺从的;可弯曲的 | |
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156 conjectured | |
推测,猜测,猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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158 drowsy | |
adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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159 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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160 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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161 iris | |
n.虹膜,彩虹 | |
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162 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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163 diffused | |
散布的,普及的,扩散的 | |
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164 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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165 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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166 fixedness | |
n.固定;稳定;稳固 | |
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167 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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168 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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169 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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170 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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171 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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172 sculptors | |
雕刻家,雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 ); [天]玉夫座 | |
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173 emaciation | |
n.消瘦,憔悴,衰弱 | |
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174 prominence | |
n.突出;显著;杰出;重要 | |
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175 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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176 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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177 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
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178 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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179 peal | |
n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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180 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
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181 gnomes | |
n.矮子( gnome的名词复数 );侏儒;(尤指金融市场上搞投机的)银行家;守护神 | |
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182 caverns | |
大山洞,大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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183 throbbing | |
a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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184 kernel | |
n.(果实的)核,仁;(问题)的中心,核心 | |
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185 asunder | |
adj.分离的,化为碎片 | |
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186 rending | |
v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 );分裂;(因愤怒、痛苦等而)揪扯(衣服或头发等);(声音等)刺破 | |
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187 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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188 exclusion | |
n.拒绝,排除,排斥,远足,远途旅行 | |
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189 solidification | |
凝固 | |
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190 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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191 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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192 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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193 fumes | |
n.(强烈而刺激的)气味,气体 | |
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194 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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195 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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196 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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197 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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198 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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199 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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200 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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201 peals | |
n.(声音大而持续或重复的)洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 );隆隆声;洪亮的钟声;钟乐v.(使)(钟等)鸣响,(雷等)发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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202 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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203 mingling | |
adj.混合的 | |
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204 muffled | |
adj.(声音)被隔的;听不太清的;(衣服)裹严的;蒙住的v.压抑,捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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205 murmurs | |
n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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206 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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207 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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208 undesirable | |
adj.不受欢迎的,不良的,不合意的,讨厌的;n.不受欢迎的人,不良分子 | |
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209 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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210 infesting | |
v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的现在分词 );遍布于 | |
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211 degenerated | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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212 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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213 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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214 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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215 peculiarity | |
n.独特性,特色;特殊的东西;怪癖 | |
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216 ponderosity | |
n.沉重,笨重;有质性;可称性 | |
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217 expending | |
v.花费( expend的现在分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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218 perturbed | |
adj.烦燥不安的v.使(某人)烦恼,不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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219 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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220 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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221 solidifying | |
(使)成为固体,(使)变硬,(使)变得坚固( solidify的现在分词 ); 使团结一致; 充实,巩固; 具体化 | |
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222 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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223 landlady | |
n.女房东,女地主 | |
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224 triangular | |
adj.三角(形)的,三者间的 | |
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225 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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226 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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227 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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228 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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229 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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230 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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231 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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232 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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233 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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234 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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235 abortions | |
n.小产( abortion的名词复数 );小产胎儿;(计划)等中止或夭折;败育 | |
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236 quench | |
vt.熄灭,扑灭;压制 | |
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237 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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238 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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239 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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240 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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241 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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242 dissection | |
n.分析;解剖 | |
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243 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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244 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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245 reiteration | |
n. 重覆, 反覆, 重说 | |
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246 alterations | |
n.改动( alteration的名词复数 );更改;变化;改变 | |
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247 burrowed | |
v.挖掘(洞穴),挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 );翻寻 | |
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248 trepidation | |
n.惊恐,惶恐 | |
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249 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
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250 blots | |
污渍( blot的名词复数 ); 墨水渍; 错事; 污点 | |
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251 ravens | |
n.低质煤;渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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252 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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253 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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254 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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255 inanity | |
n.无意义,无聊 | |
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256 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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257 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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258 subside | |
vi.平静,平息;下沉,塌陷,沉降 | |
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259 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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260 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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261 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
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262 obliteration | |
n.涂去,删除;管腔闭合 | |
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263 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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264 shroud | |
n.裹尸布,寿衣;罩,幕;vt.覆盖,隐藏 | |
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265 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
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266 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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267 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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268 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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269 softening | |
变软,软化 | |
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270 forsaking | |
放弃( forsake的现在分词 ); 弃绝; 抛弃; 摒弃 | |
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271 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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272 cleaving | |
v.劈开,剁开,割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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273 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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274 entreaties | |
n.恳求,乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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275 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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276 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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277 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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278 smothered | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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279 shovelful | |
n.一铁铲 | |
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280 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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281 antidote | |
n.解毒药,解毒剂 | |
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282 atheism | |
n.无神论,不信神 | |
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283 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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284 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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285 astronomical | |
adj.天文学的,(数字)极大的 | |
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